


MADE YOU WEAK

by jean_huh_kirschnickerdoodle



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Boys Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, banging in homra, boys in love but not wanting to admit it because THESE TWO ARE FUCKING IDIOTS MY GOD, canonverse, just a schoosh of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5178557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jean_huh_kirschnickerdoodle/pseuds/jean_huh_kirschnickerdoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yata and Fushimi are ordered to wait in Homra, alone. They entertain themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	MADE YOU WEAK

**Author's Note:**

> i was supposed to be writing this au one shot but haha episode 5 and [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-Jo25SL56A) got me like

“Argh why do we have to wait here while everyone else gets to have all the fun?” Yata groaned, looking up at Kusanagi from his back, ankles crossed and hanging over the back of the couch.

“Aren’t you supposed to be ‘protecting Anna?’”

_That again?_

He crinkled his nose at the bartender; they were his words and he had meant them. But it was boring staying in Homra while everyone else teamed up with the blues and took down JUNGLE. He turned his hazel eyes toward the door at the sound of the small bell, quickly pushing himself up into a more respectable position.

Not that he cared what some blue thought.

Especially not the King. Why was Munakata here in the first place? Just because they were in a temporary alliance didn’t mean they could just waltz into Homra’s territory.

“Shit, that time already?” It was Kusanagi, a small sigh lacing the ends of the words. As if whatever ‘that’ was, was too much effort. “Come on, Anna.”

The small girl smiled, lowering the red marble from her eye and moving besides Kusanagi toward the door.

“Wait, where are you going? I should go, too.”

“You, stay.” Kusanagi pointed toward the ground. “You’re too hotheaded for this particular one. Stay and watch Homra.”

“But—”

“You, too.” Munakata’s voice interrupted him, followed by the appearance of Yata’s former best friend and—

“Why do I have stay here?”

“Why are you leaving the monkey here?”

The words left their mouths at the same time, resulting in annoyed tension as their eyes met and averted just as quickly.

“ _That_ is exactly why you two can’t come with us. Don’t destroy my bar.” Kusanagi didn’t say anything else, following Munakata out the door.

Anna turned toward them, a smile on her lips, and looked at them both through the red marble—glass surface warping them inside the sphere. “You should talk.”

Quiet overtook the room as the door shut. It was deafening. Suffocating.

Most of all it was fucking awkward.

Saruhiko shifted his weight from foot to foot before slowly walking through the lobby, palm resting against the butt of his sword’s hilt. Blue eyes wandered, brows pulled together with something akin to disgust but the smallest smirk tugging at his lips.

“Why are you here, Monkey?”

He grinned, turning back toward his once best friend, and waved a hand through the air. “Because my King ordered it so.”

Yata’s features screwed up, spatting out a snarled, “King.”

“Yes, he is, in fact, the blue King. Or are you just salty because my King is not your King, _Misaki_?” There was a sing-song to his voice as he moved behind the bar, fingers dancing along the surface that held memories locked deep within.

“You fucking—” Yata growled and was on him before he realized it, fingers twisting into the collar of the Scepter 4 uniform. “He _was_ your King—” His teeth bared, clenched together, hazel eyes bore into Saruhiko. “Anna _should_ be your King!”

A smile pulled at his lips as he looked down at Yata, leaning closer to him until he couldn’t look at all of his face at once. “Still hung up on that pride of yours, Misaki?”

Yata’s fingers loosened just for a moment, anger slipping from his eyes and mouth parting just so. And then it was back, heat flashing through hazel, brows furrowing and fingers fisted into blue.

“You—you fucking—”

“That’s right, hold on to that anger of yours; keep hating me.”

Hazel eyes lowered just for a moment, and there was something in them that Saruhiko couldn’t quite place. Something buried deep beneath the anger and the hurt.

He thought it might be realization, and regret sat heavily in his gut; concrete churning in the pits of his stomach.

“What does that mean…?”

Panic welled up in him, skin tingling as he desperately wished he could take back his words. He didn’t want Yata to know, didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to say it. No, he did. But he didn’t.

Saruhiko reacted, long fingers gripping the back of the other’s head and closing the gap between them. Their lips crashed together, hard and bruising, soft flesh hot on contact.

“Sa—”

He didn’t let him stop the kiss, slipping his tongue between Misaki’s lips while they were parted. While he had the chance. It was warm and wet and soft; a familiar taste against his tongue lingering a he swallowed down the nostalgia that burned the back of his throat.

And then there was cold; chill air of Homra slipping between parted lips and wet breaths. Blue eyes darted back and forth, studying; calculating. Questioning. His answer was there, in slightly dazed hazel eyes and reddened lips and fingers that flexed around his collar.

Misaki wasn’t fighting it. He wasn’t pushing away. He wasn’t even letting go.

He wanted it as much as Saruhiko did.

The raven didn’t hesitate, again capturing Misaki’s lips with his own. He nipped at them, drawing out a shuddered breath before his tongue rolled against the other’s. Long, slender fingers hastily pushed the beanie from the shorter male’s head, twisting into soft copper locks.

He pressed against him until there was a little hum of surprise against his lips, Misaki’s back pressing against the bar. Saruhiko didn’t hesitate, slipping his hands down to his hips and lifting him onto the counter. He had expected some form of protest or complaint about not being that short, but found none.

Instead there were fingers tugging at his jacket and legs wrapping around his hips, feet pulling him closer until—

“Haah~” He breathed the sound out—heavy and hot and wet—against Miasaki’s lips. Pleasure jolted through him, twisted outward from where their hips met and bulges ground together.

“Heh, you always were sensitive.” Yata grinned, squeezing his legs around him and letting out his own shuddered breath into the space between them.

Saruhiko didn’t retort, instead pulling him in by a fistful of hair. He sucked at his lips before forcing his tongue into the other’s mouth again. He suppressed a shiver at the way Misaki’s tongue twisted over his, the way it lapped at every drop of flavor, the familiarity of it all.

The way he tasted like home.

Lifting his hips, he pushed hard against Misaki, a small moan whining from his lips and being swallowed by the other’s hungry kisses. He braced himself on the bar, body pushing forward in some desperate quest for purchase, for pleasure, for more.

For heat and skin and fullness and him.

Bottles clattered together as his fingers slipped against the bar’s surface, one falling over and rolling toward the edge of the bar before turning in its rotation.

“Saru—” Yata breathed and righted the bottle. “Kusanagi will kill us if we break his bar.”

He grinned, thinking it might be interesting, and stole another kiss, sucking on Misaki’s lips.

“Ah—bathroom—” Yata loosened his legs and tapped Saruhiko’s arm, urging him back and sliding off the counter. His steps didn’t halt, landing and heading straight to the bathroom; gripping the taller male’s wrist and pulling him along.

Saruhiko had barely crossed the threshold when two strong hands threw him against the sink, lips crashing into his and swallowing whatever salt that danced on his tongue. The kiss didn’t last long before he pushed away from Yata, turning to open the mirror-door of the medicine cabinet. He grinned, pulling out the bottle of lube that sat cleanly on the shelf.

“Luckily there’s enough gay in Homra to always keep a bottle around. We’d be shit out of luck if it was left to a virgin like you, eh, Mi-sa-ki?” He wiggled the bottle as he turned back toward Yata.

“We _both_ know that’s bullshit, Monkey.” And his lips were on Saruhiko’s again, fingers pushing his jacket to the floor.

He was right, of course. Saruhiko knew better than anyone; he was the one who had seen to fixing that. Not that it’d ever stop him from using it as a jab against Misaki; not as long as it still got to him.

He was sure there was a deeper, underlying reason such an obvious lie bothered Homra’s third. But any thoughts he had about the matter—thoughts he’d prefer to not be having in the first place—dissipated at the sudden warmth on his ass; a strong hand slipping into the back of his pants and gripping one of his cheeks.

He couldn’t be sure if the small hum vibrating against his lips was his own or Misaki’s or some twisted combination of the two. But if he was being honest, he didn’t much have a fuck to give about that at the moment. He was more than a little impatient; not even being able to remember how long it had been since they’d been able to be together like this.

Since before Tatara’s murder, he thought.

Too fucking long, he knew.

“Haah—Saru—” Yata’s words weren’t much more than hot breaths, fingers squeezing into firm cheeks and spreading them.

“Just—fuck—” Saruhiko moved his hands between them, fingers desperately working at the fastenings of his pants and only now noticing that his waistcoat had been tossed to the side at some point. When, he couldn’t be sure—sometime when his mind was wrapped in nothing but the feel of Misaki’s tongue on the back of his mouth and his scent in his nose and copper hair in slender fingers.

He pushed his pants and underwear down to his thighs, turning away from Misaki. A moment of embarrassment flushed over him as he saw himself in the mirror—cheeks a touch heated and eyes heavy and blow behind his glasses, hair mussed from hungry fingers. Saruhiko didn’t say anything, simply waited and avoided looking into the mirror.

“Take them all the way off.”

There was a tug at the waist of his pants; he could almost shiver at how close to his ass Misaki’s hand was.

“What?”

There was a bite in Misaki’s words when he replied. “Don’t want to mess your precious blues, right?”

Saruhiki clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing over his shoulders. He didn’t give a fuck about that right now. He just wanted Misaki to hurry up and fuck him—not that he was going to say that. Honesty wasn’t exactly his forte.

“Fucking—” He growled as he loosened the laces of his boots as quickly as he could—tossing them to the side with a loud thud-thud against the door—and pushed his pants and underwear to a crumpled pile on the floor. “There now quit stalling, fucking vir—”

Yata’s lips were on his before he could finish his complaint, body pressed in close and hands cupping and spreading his cheeks. He couldn’t help but moan against his lips, shivering at the warmth and strength of those hands on his ass, shivering at the memory of how they felt and how he could never forget. Saruhiko thought he could just get lost in the tongue against his lips and fingers on his ass but even so, it wasn’t enough.

He wanted more.

More touching.

More contact.

More Misaki.

With more willpower than he’d ever admit, even to himself, he gripped Misaki’s shoulders and pushed him back. He narrowed his eyes at him, licking his lips that still tasted like the shorter male.

“Stop fucking around. Or are you just _nervous_ , Mi-sa-ki~?” He grinned, looking down his nose at him.

“Fucking—” Yata reached around him, grabbing the bottle of lube that Saruhiko had left on the edge of the sink. “Turn around, Monkey.”

This was one order he’d follow without argument. Saruhiko turned to face the sink, palms resting against the rim as he practically wiggled his ass at Misaki—here it is, come get it.

He half expected him to push right in; but that never was Misaki’s style. At least not when it came to this. Instead, Saruhiko found himself suppressing a shiver as a warm, lube-covered finger, slicked up the length of the seam of his ass. It wasn’t much more than a ghost of a touch, finger dancing over the surface of his sensitive flesh, tracing from the base of his sack to the top of his cheeks.

There was a tightness in the base of his spine and a threatening weakness in his knees. He swallowed hard; he shouldn’t be reacting like this for just a touch. But he was and he couldn’t be surprised. Misaki knew him, knew his body, and apparently even after Saruhiko abandoned him, he hadn’t forgotten.

“Misa—ah!” His words cut off as Misaki finally pressed a finger into him, slowly pushing in until his palm pressed against his ass. He didn’t hesitate or wait—he knew. He knew how to twist Saruhiko, finger thrusting and tracing around his inner walls, pulling almost out to circle his entrance before letting his ass suck him back in; lube dripping out around the digit.

“Stop acting like this is the first time, Monkey.” He snapped, thumb tracing over his seam while his finger worked inside. Yata’s other hand wrapped around his body, slowly unbuttoning Saruhiko’s shirt.

Saruhiko hung his head as he felt a warmth press against his back, Misaki’s forehead between his shoulder blades, and an even warmer hand slipping over his hips. He let out an unbidden moan, spine curving as he felt a second finger push against his walls.

“I know your body better than you do.”

He shivered as Misaki’s hand slipped over his torso, palm dancing over his quivering muscles, stopping only when his fingers brushed over a nipple. Saruhiko’s breath stuttered as it fell from his lips, body arching into his touch and hips opening on their own as he worked his ass.

Pleasure drip-dropped through his body, pooling in his core. The fingers circling roughly over his nipples left his thighs trembling, heat tingling beneath his skin and shaking fingers gripping the rim of the sink. Saruhiko shivered as he felt wet-heat against his thigh, a low, breathy moan against his back as Misaki ground against him.

“Nn—stop—” He swallowed down a moan as Misaki opened his fingers and pulled against his inner walls. “Are you a fucking dog?”

His body jolted as strong fingers tweaked his nipple, knees threatening to give as pleasure twisted from the digits crooking inside his ass.

“It’s not like I can help it,” Teeth worked against Saruhiko’s shoulder through his shirt. “It’s your fault.”

“That’s—hah—that’s enough.” He looked over his shoulder, trying his best to smirk and look like his arrogance self; hiding his desperate need to have Yata inside him. He shivered at the feeling of fingers slipping from inside him, suppressing the urge to whine at the emptiness.

The the click of a bottle opening was all the warning Saruhiko got before he felt a cold, thick liquid dripping down his ass and warming as it reached his thighs. “Cold! What the fuck—”

Misaki laughed as he met his eyes over his shoulder, only a moment before he drizzled the lube over his own aching cock. He brushed his fingers over Saruhiko’s ass before spreading his cheeks with his thumbs.

“Ready?”

“I already fucking sa—aah!” His mouth fell open, moan strangled into silence in his throat as Misaki pushed into him.

He moved gingerly, fingers on Saruhiko’s hips steadying him as he slowly, slowly, _too damn slowly_ pushed into him, pushing until his hips pressed flush against his ass.

His breath came out of parted lips hotly, dripping from his tongue and disippating into the chill bathroom air. His thighs trembled, palms pressed against the wall beside the mirror, and he bit back the mewl that threatened to crawl from his throat.

He was full.

So full.

So deep.

So perfect.

Saruhiko swallowed hard, head hanging heavy between his shoulders as he felt his ass throbbing and pulsing around Misaki’s cock. He hadn’t even moved yet, but it didn’t matter. It was enough to leave his skin crawling in the most delicious way.

“Saru—hiko—can I—” Yata’s breath was heavy against his back, pants breaking his words as he willed himself still, hips trembling with anticipation and cock jolting inside Saruhiko with the want to move.

“Mhn—Misa—ki~” He didn’t answer, instead rocking his hips forward, breath stuttering as pleasure seeped into his body, relishing the way the cock moving inside him pulled at his walls.

“F-fuck—Saruhiko—”

There was no warning, Misaki’s hips snapped forward. He pushed in to the hilt, force of his thrust pushing the raven forward. It was hot, so hot, his body burned as the shorter male fucked into him, his little grunts and moans drowned out behind Saruhiko’s own moans. His body ached and trembled, every thrust forward pushing a stark chill through him as his cock pushed up against the cold porcelain of the sink.

“Ah—Misaki—the sink—” He looked over his shoulder, watching as the ginger paused, looking around to where Saruhiko’s leaking cock pushed against the rim of the sink. He thought he saw a smile on his lips, but the thought flitted away as pleasure shivered through him and a sudden emptiness left him hungry, needy.

Yata wasted no time in turning him around, hands slipping down to his hips, thighs, and lifting him onto the edge of the sink. Saruhiko looked at him through heavy eyes, cold seeping into his body. There was only a moment of hesitation before his fingers twisted into copper locks and he pulled him into another kiss, hands moving to tug at the hem of Misaki’s shirt, pulling it up over his head.

“Hurry.” He breathed against his lips, eyes ghosting over Misaki’s body, muscles tight with anticipation.

“Fucking telling me what to do—” Yata bit out, but Saruhiko knew it was an empty complaint. He watched over the rim of his glasses as Misaki’s strong fingers lined his cock up with his entrance, pushing back into him.

He couldn’t help but shudder at the sight of his ass swallowing up Misaki’s cock, pleasure coursing through his body and heat burning down his spine.

“Just fuck me already, Mi-sa-ki~” He grinned, legs spread open as he leaned back on the sink. His fingers shook as they dug desperately into the rim of the sink.

“Fucking—monkey—”

A strangled moan forced its way harshly out of Saruhiko’s throat, dripping down his lips and dying between them. Misaki pushed hard into him, fingers digging into his hips as he slowly pulled out before snapping back into him.

“Haah—Mi-sa—harder—” Saruhiko’s eyes were clouding over, pupils blown and senses lazy as his ass vibrated around the cock that filled him so good, so hard.

It had to be hard. If it wasn’t hard then this would mean—

“Fuck—ing—” Yata’s words were more growl and teeth, fingers gripping Saruhiko’s hips something awful, squeezing hard enough that there would surely be fingerprints in the morning.

“Aah—Misa—ki—there—!” Saruhiko’s body arched on his own, chest heaving and hips curving awkwardly—and painfully—against the edge of the sink. He was certain his tailbone would be bruised in the morning but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure coursing through him. The way Misaki pulled his hips and pushed into him, the way he knew the angle to grind every inch of his cock against that spot that left him screaming. And scream he did. He couldn’t stop himself; white-knuckled fingers gripping the sink and trembling, shaking legs bouncing at his ex-best friend’s sides.

“Ah—fuck—Misaki—deeper—” It was an empty plea; he knew he was giving him every inch he had, and fuck he wasn’t complaining. He relished the fullness, relished the way each push and pull jolted his hips and left his cock leaking against his abdomen.

“Fu—ck—Saru _hiko_ ~” The moan slipped from Misaki’s lips, dripping heavily as he drew out the name that danced up his throat and over his tongue.

“Hnah—more—” He hated how he loved it. Hated the way his core tightened and burned and his ass clenched and vibrated just from the sound of it. Hated the way he said his name and the way it spurred him on and the way he wanted more.

_More._

_More._

_More._

_I need more._

“Hah—fuck—I’m close.” Yata’s voice was heavy, words coming out on the edges of wet, panting breaths.

“Don’t—” Saruhiko’s eyes narrowed, barely more than a ring of blue around his fuck-blown pupils, and he curled his lips up in a snarl. “Don’t you dare fucking finish first you asshole.”

Hazel eyes looked up at him as he paused, a grin spreading on his lips. “Saruhiko,” The name was laced with laughter. “You always were greedy.”

He didn’t get a chance to retort before strong fingers released his hips, moving to wrap around his neglected cock. The touch alone was enough to pull a needy gasp from him, body shifting with hunger. Misaki didn’t hesitate, gripping him tight and stroking him quickly, pressing his thumb over the slit and smearing precum over the head of Saruhiko’s dick and down his shaft.

“Haah—fuck—I—faster—faster—” His body shook and trembled as Misaki complied, hazel eyes closing under his gaze as his hips moved faster, deeper, hand stroking him in-time. “Good—so goo—ah—”

More.

More.

More.

The heat coiling at the base of his spine pulled and tightened, every thrust, every stroke twisting it tighter, tighter, tighter—

“Aah—Misa-ki—Misa—Mi _saki_ ~” His body shuddered, hips jolting as his cock pulsed, hot cum splurting out over his chest. His arms shook and his head fell back, hands gripping the rim of the sink as small bursts of electricity seemed to dart through his body, toes curling tight and thighs twitching through his orgasm.

“Shit—Saruhiko—” Yata began to pull out, feeling his own climax coming fast, but Saruhiko stopped him—legs hooking around his hips and pulling him close to his body; forcing him to stay deep within his body.

Hazel eyes met his own with something akin to surprise, Saruhiko looking at him through heavy eyes and saying nothing.

“Saruhiko…” Misaki slipped the fingers of his clean hand into black locks, twisting the hair around them and pulling him into a kiss. It was hungry and wet and sloppy but there was something else there as he pulled Saruhiko to the edge of the sink.

His thrusts grew erratic, shallow but deep as Saruhiko kept his legs locked tight around him. Misaki’s hand at the base of his spine dug into his back, fingers gripping desperately as he devoured the taller male’s lips with his own; moaning into his mouth as his own knees threatened to give out. Release flooded through him, heat coursing through his veins and leaving his body as his cock throbbed inside of Saruhiko’s ass; tight and vibrating and sucking every drop of cum from him.

Misaki’s movements inside of the raven slowed, lips not parting. They worked slowly against each other, tongues slipping together, strong fingers twisted in soft hair and slender fingers trembling against quivering hips. As their breathing steadied, Saruhiko shivered as he felt the other slide out of him; hands moving to his hips as he seemed to ensure his feet were steady on the ground.

Saruhiko grabbed a towel from the nearby rack, hands shaking as he soaked it in hot water. He didn’t much care if someone saw it afterward, he wasn’t going to wipe himself down with toilet paper and deal with the sticky, crusty mess that would result.

“Hey, Saruhiko…” Misaki’s voice was low as he pulled his shirt back over his head, facing way from the raven. “Why…why did you betr—” He swallowed down the word, “Why did you leave?”

Saruhiko’s fingers froze midway through buttoning his shirt.

_Because I hated the way you looked at Mikoto. Because you found a home with someone other than me. Because you belonged there even if I wasn’t._

“Just because I wanted to.” He tilted his head, smirking down at Misaki.

“You—” Yata’s hands were shaking at his side, fists clenched until his knuckles were white, jaw tight and tense.

“It’s that simple. Now get out. Or do you plan to watch me clean my ass, Mi-sa-ki?”

Misaki’s cheeks lit up, eyes flashing with anger and words he couldn’t quite get off his tongue. “Fucking monkey!” He snarled, slamming the door behind him.

He stomped out from the bathroom, moving behind the counter, hazel eyes flashing over bottles and cups and trying to find something, anything to take his out anger on. He settled for kicking a barstool across the room, pink flames licking the air as a heavy “ _Fuck!_ ” growled its way from his throat.

He bit down on his lip, savoring the pain as iron assaulted his tongue. Slowly, his breathing calmed, hands still shaking as he righted the barstool, tentatively moving to sit on it. He ran his fingers through his hair, ignoring the stinging in his eyes as he refused to acknowledge the tears that threatened to fall.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat like that, or when Saruhiko had finally stepped out of the bathroom; hair fixed and clothes straightened. As if nothing had happened. Silent.

It was the bell above the entryway that brought him to attention, turning to see the Kings and their lieutenants returning.

Anna hopped up beside him; Kusanagi’s eyes wandering over Homra as he moved behind the bar, ensuring she was as he left her.

“Did something good happen, Fushimi?” Munakata’s voice was smooth as he pushed his glasses up, a crooked smirk on his lips as he looked over his clansman.

“Tch, like anything good could happen in this trash hole.” He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, walking toward the door before Yata could say anything.

“Hm, well then.” Munakata nodded to the three members of Homra, following Saruhiko out the door.

“Thank you for your assistance, Red King.” The blond lieutenant smiled and nodded toward the young girl before she followed after her King.

“See you later, Seri~” Kusanagi grinned and sang after her before the door shut.

“Fucking monkey.” Yata grumbled out as he hopped down from the barstool, still lingering on Saruhiko’s words on both Homra and his betrayal.

“Saruhiko was walking funny.” Anna’s voice was small, innocent, only to be followed by a deep laugh from Kusanagi.

“Yata, you should be gentler next time.” The bartender was still grinning as he held Yata’s beanie out to him.

“What—I—” Yata knew his cheeks were red, lips petulant as he took his hat sharply and stomped away from them; hearing Kusanagi laugh again as he left the room.

His fingers twisted into the cotton, teeth gritted and bared as he swore he could still feel Saruhiko against his hands. “It’s the same every damn time.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope that wasn't awful for my first time writing these two.
> 
> comment sustain me, so do that thing


End file.
